A Letter
by Pyroluminescence
Summary: The stars are the same here, too. Sometimes I wonder if you’re out there, looking up at the same sky. ::Elricesty, pre movie:: How can Ed begin to fit into a world he doesn't belong to when he isn't even whole?


This is more wangst than Elricest, but I hope you like anyways. Sorry for my lack of talent. ::sweatdrop:: xP

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Al –

It's getting colder up here. I still can't get used to it. It seems like the locals are somehow programmed to react with the cold. Like some magnetic polarity has them in sync with the weather. No, it's more than the weather. They abide to the laws of this world by nature. I told Alfons it was second nature for him, to live in this world he was born into and belonged to. But I was wrong, Al. It's not second nature to anyone. It's just THEIR nature.

The people here are born to live, breath, and exist in this world, and it's a purpose evolution has them well-equipped for. I've tried learning the laws of this world. And, in some ways, I guess that's enough. You remember how we once read about the half-Ishbalan man who lived among the Amestrians in East City? How, even though he learned the language, the customs, and the way of life for the people of our State, he was always an outsider? No matter what he did, even if he could pass for a dark-skinned Amestrian, first and foremost, he was Ishbalan, and therefore would never be accepted into a world he could only adapt to.

It's like me. Even if he learned the language and the way of life for our people, or found a way to belong, it'd always be his second world. I don't belong here, Al. Though they'd never, not until the second coming of Christ, ever guess I'm from another world, they can tell I don't belong - that there's something missing from my repertoire of social skills and worldly knowledge. Some unspoken, but always known piece of knowledge you can only have when you're born into this world.

It's so much like Amestris, in some ways, I gotta wonder what about it is so hard to adapt to. Even the science of this world is similar. I'm still learning. It's fascinating. Even if alchemy is always out of reach, the elements are still there. In some ways, this world is too alike. I have to wonder, sometimes, how two worlds so separate can be so similar. People interact pretty much the same, though this country's customs are a little different from its neighbors. Kinda formal. I guess you can tell from my writing. But even if I can adapt, what is it that alienates me so much?

I guess I know the answer to that one. Because, when it comes down to it, I don't want to belong to this world. Not when I know the world I belong is right out there, just out of reach. Sometimes Alfons and I take trips out to the countryside. There, you can see the stars so well you feel like you can reach out and touch. I sometimes wonder if one of those stars out there is our world. It's wishful thinking, I guess. But that's essentially what this is… another world. And maybe someday, I'll be able to reach those distant worlds. The stars are the same here, too. Sometimes I wonder if you're out there, looking up at the same sky. Some whackjob who works in an old fortune shop – whatever that is – told me that no matter what, when you look up at the sky, someone else is looking at the same star.

Somehow, I believe it. Ever since I came here, I've been believing all kinds of crazy stuff. Stuff I know can't be true, but something inside tells me I should believe. So, Al, I want you to know, I hope every time I look up, somehow, you're looking back.

This world is a lot like ours, but too much is missing. Or maybe it's not missing, so much as it's just different. Alfons Heiderich… He's so much like you, Al. He smiles the same. Almost. He almost smells the same. He's every bit as much of a baby about stray animals. If I were able to hear an older you, I bet you'd even sound the same. But I can't delude myself; I can't even try to. He's a part of this world. And I'm not.

But one night, after the two of us had taken a long wagon ride out to the country to meet up with a colleague of his, he just suddenly fell asleep against me. He's so warm, Al. And when I looked up at the sky, I had to wonder, if, maybe, this is what it'd be like if we were together. If I could feel you again.

He wonders why I don't talk to much anyone here. Or get a girlfriend. You're the only one I can tell the truth to. Because I don't belong to this world, I can't allow myself to connect to it. To love people here is to step foot into something I can't be a part of. Someday, I'm leaving here. And when that happens, it'll be as if I were just a passing traveler. In a few years, no one will care much about the weird kid with the strange body and foreign mannerisms. Except, well…

Maybe it was a mistake, meeting up with Heiderich. Being this close to something so close to you… Well, it's not healthy. In a lot of ways, it makes me miss you all the more. But somehow, it also makes me feel like this similar but different world has a place for me after all. Stupid, I know. And selfish. Why would a world I do nothing but disturb reserve a place for me? Do I think there's some equivalent exchange? Since I killed the other Edward, there's a place for me, now? No, that's not it. Not nearly it.

But somehow - and I know I use that word a lot, but this world is full of somehow's – I think, no, I know, that Alfons needs me, too. Since he is the you of this world, maybe, like you, he needs me. I dunno if I can forgive myself for loving something that's not of my world, but Alfons is more than a best friend in this world. He's a reason, Al. And he's a means. We're working together, learning more every day. He doesn't quite know what to make of my stories, but together, we're going to do our damndest to bring me home.

I wonder how much I'm gonna miss him. If I do leave, after all. It's not just because he's the alternate you, Al. Part of just loves him – and I know that sounds strange, but imagine I'm speaking of an alternate brother – because he's him. Different and all. The kind of guy I'd miss. And if I can manage to miss the colonel so much – bastard his is and all – I imagine I'd miss him terribly. Oh well. That's Equivalency, I guess.

It's almost dawn. I've been writing a while. I don't even remember when I started. Or why. I guess it's because I get the feeling that somewhere, you're asleep, dreaming. I guess the nutty superstitions of this world are getting to me, because I feel like you can hear me. Sometimes, when I talk to Alfons, I feel like you're listening, too.

Someday, when I get you back, I'll tell you everything, whether you can hear me or not. When that day comes, let me know if you ever got this letter, okay?

You know, there's even a person who looks like Mr. Hughes. He's a police officer in the city. There's a woman who looks like Mrs. Hughes, too. I've seen all kinds of familiar faces. But it's not the same, Al. Maybe, if I were given enough time, I could adapt to this world. In a few years, it might be like I never came from another world. Maybe. But I don't think so.

Because I'm not complete in this world. Even if this world was an exact mirror, Alchemy and all… Something would still keep me from belonging. Without you, I'm not whole. I'm not me

Al, in this world, in MY world, you're the only thing that's missing.


End file.
